


Caffeine vs. the Spider

by Optimistique



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Author is not a doctor, Caffeine Overdose, Gen, In this house we pretend Infinity War didn't happen, Iron Man - Freeform, Iron dad and Spider son, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Spider-Man - Freeform, cardiac arrest - Freeform, father/son feels, teenagers being dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 14:40:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16410368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Optimistique/pseuds/Optimistique
Summary: "Peter grabbed another soda from the fridge that morning, desperately hoping it would help wake him up enough to at least make it to school.  But as he glanced down at the brown liquid, he wondered: just how much caffeine would it take to actually affect him?  There were some limits he still hadn’t tested since the spider bite.And so he made the decision to perform an experiment.  You know, for science.He took the remaining seven bottles of coke and stuffed them in his backpack."Peter decides to find out just how much caffeine his metabolism can handle.  In hindsight, it may not have been such a good idea.  Tony Stark doesn't think so either.





	Caffeine vs. the Spider

It started with a single bottle of Coca-Cola. Aunt May caught Peter chugging it one night after he returned home from patrol. It had only been a couple months since she had discovered his secret, and she was still not thrilled about it, to say the least. After days trying to explain to her the nature of his powers, what he could do, what he had to do, she had finally agreed to let him continue being Spider-Man under very certain conditions.

So when he crept back through his bedroom window just in time for 10:00 pm curfew, feeling hungry and a little shaky, he decided soda was a good option to bump his blood sugar back up. May had waited up for him, as she had recently made a habit of doing. She looked disheveled when she came to the kitchen to greet him. She may have fallen asleep on the couch while she waited. It made guilt swirl in Peter’s stomach along with the carbonation.

“Hey honey, welcome home. Are you all-- What are you doing?”

Peter wiped the back of his mouth with his hand. “Oh, uh… Remember how I told you I get way hungrier all the time now because of my metabolism? Sometimes I feel a little weak when I first get home. I burn through calories pretty fast, so…” He motioned with the empty plastic bottle.

“We have juice for that, you know,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And snacks. You promised you wouldn’t skip meals.”

He held up one placating had. “I didn't! I promise. I had a sandwich. I just need some extra sugar sometimes.”

“Well try to drink something else this late at night,” she continued, taking the bottle from him and tossing it into the recycle bin. “I don’t want the caffeine keeping you up.”

Peter thought about trying to explain to her how he knew from experience that his enhanced metabolism would burn through the caffeine by the time he was finished brushing his teeth, but decided to let it go. He had caused her so much stress over the past few months--both before and after she knew about Spider-Man--that fighting with her over something so trivial seemed like pouring salt on the wound. Instead, he agreed, hugged her goodnight, and went to change out of his suit.

 

It wasn’t until two days later, after a particularly long night, that an idea struck him. (He had promised May to only go about his superhero activities two school days a week and no later than 10:00 at night, but when the scream of a woman getting mugged a mere block away from his apartment woke him up at 2:00 am after he had already stayed up until midnight studying for a test, what was a responsible Spider-Man to do?) He grabbed another soda from the fridge that morning, desperately hoping it would help wake him up enough to at least make it to school. But as he glanced down at the brown liquid, he wondered: just how much caffeine would it take to actually affect him? There were some limits he still hadn’t tested since the spider bite.

And so he made the decision to perform an experiment. You know, for science.

Peter took the remaining seven bottles of coke and stuffed them in his backpack. It made it look lumpy, but the weight was nothing to him. He drank one on the train on the way to school. When that did nothing to help keep his eyes open, he downed another before first period. It wasn’t until his fourth one, after third period, that he started to feel more alert. At lunch he bought a Pepsi at the cafeteria vending machine (just to add some variety), and finished it just before returning to class.

Fifth period found him starting to droop again, so he drank bottles six and seven between classes.

“Dude,” Ned frowned, watching Peter sip at bottle number eight just before their last class of the day began. “How many of those have you had?”

“I dunno, lost count,” Peter lied as his leg bounced with pent up energy. “It was a late night last night. No big deal.” He already had May worried sick about him all the time. He did not need to add his best friend to that list.

Ned shrugged. “If you say so.” He continued to glance suspiciously at Peter, but thankfully changed the subject. “You ‘interning’ tonight?”

Peter smiled goofily. For some reason, it felt really easy to be happy right now. “Yep!”

“Need any ‘assistance?’” Ned asked before silently mouthing “Guy in the chair.”

“No, but I’ll call if anything comes up. Promise.”

There was just enough time for their elongated handshake before class began.

By the time Peter left school and made it to Delmar’s for his usual sandwich before patrol, he found himself disappointed. He could already feel the caffeine leaving his system and the impending sleepiness taking over. Apparently, eight bottles of soda throughout the day was not enough for enhanced spider teenagers. Noted.

As he waited in the deli for his sandwich to be made, his eyes wandered over to the fridge near the counter that held cold drinks available for purchase. It hit him when he saw the cans of Red Bull: he’d been doing this all wrong. Of course his metabolism could filter through caffeine administered slowly over several hours. If he really wanted to test his limits, he had to take more of it all at once. He grabbed a dozen 12 oz. cans of the energy drink from the fridge and put them on the counter by the register. Mr. Delmar’s eyebrows shot up when he set Peter’s sandwich down beside him.

“Geez kid. You planning to stay up for a week or something?”

“They’re not all for me,” Peter answered quickly. “I’m having a late night study session with some friends tonight. We have a lot of cramming to do for finals.”

The older man just shook his head and rung everything up. “I don’t envy your poor aunt tonight.”

Peter paid for everything with cash. He was still not used to having that. After May’s discovery of his secret, she had called Happy to rant at him, who then put her through to Mr. Stark. It had been a long and heated conversation on her end. After an hour of Peter trying and failing to intervene, she finally hung up. It wasn’t for another few days after constant explanations and reassurance from Peter that she finally relented. Peter had texted Happy the good news that Spider-Man was back in business. Since then, Mr. Stark had been discretely trying to pay for things. May refused his help on school tuition, rent, and anything else that she was already used to paying for herself. But she did agree to his intervention when it came to groceries and Peter’s lunch money. Now that she understood more about his powers, she realized why she was being eaten out of house and home. A check now arrived at the Parker residence once a week that allowed Peter the freedom to buy snacks whenever he needed them.

Peter shoveled everything into his backpack and hurried on his way. He knew he had to be smart about this. So instead of heading straight to patrol, he took the subway to the library. They had a lobby there with tables, free wifi, and--most importantly--public restrooms. He could take a bathroom break as often as he needed while he downed the potent liquid, and if he happened to overstep his bounds and needed to throw up, that would be no problem either. (Not that he expected that to happen. Spider-Man didn’t just throw up. But he thought it wise to be prepared.)

He ate the sandwich and drank one of the energy drinks before the subway ride was over. It left a pleasant tingling in his fingers. He couldn’t help but smile as he felt his awareness return to normal. But he wasn’t stopping there. He finished another drink as he walked up the steps to the library. He’d never felt more alive and eager to go webslinging in his entire life. He forced himself to be patient. His experiment wasn’t done. He could tell he was nowhere near his limit.

Over the next hour, he sat in the library with his geography book and his latest assignment open, drinking one Red Bull after the other. His fingers were twitchy. He couldn’t sit still. The words in his textbook started to run together. But he didn’t stop drinking. If he wanted actual results, he had to follow through. He visited the restroom twice, but never felt like emptying his stomach. He must not have reached the threshold yet.

It wasn’t until he reached into his backpack for another can and found them all empty that he was forced to stop. Huh. He hadn’t actually meant to drink them all. He was sure he’d have to stop before then. In awe of his own super-powered body, he gathered up his things and dashed for the door. His energy demanded release.

He barely managed to stop himself from running inhumanly fast past the unsuspecting people on the street. He could not find a secluded back alley fast enough. Once he finally did, he changed into his suit in record time, webbing his backpack against a brick wall instead of a dumpster (he’d learned his lesson about sticking it to movable objects). With a shot of web, he launched himself upward.

And boy did it feel amazing. He threw himself higher with each swing, letting out a whoop of joy.

“Good afternoon Peter,” Karen, his suit’s A.I., greeted pleasantly. “You seem to be in a good mood today.”

“It’s great day to be Spider-Man!” he answered happily. “I just feel alive, you know??”

“I don’t have the phrase ‘feeling alive’ in my database, but the connotation is positive, so I’m glad.”

It was funny, but Peter almost couldn’t feel his hands grasping each web as he went. They felt sort of tingly and numb at the same time. But they were listening to him all the same, so he didn’t think much of it.

“What you got for me today, Karen? Give me something good!”

“The area four blocks to the south has reported a high number of incidents in the past two days. Approximately 34% of them have occurred during daylight hours.”

“What kind of incidents?” he asked, already making his way south.

“I see reports of two armed robberies, four muggings, and multiple accounts of valuables missing from vehicles.”

“Alright, good enough. Let’s see who’s dumb enough to cause trouble in my neighborhood.”

He could feel a lively rhythm pumping through his veins with every beat of his heart. Which was awfully fast, if he were being honest. He knew elevated heart rate was a potential side effect of caffeine in regular people. Perhaps he had managed to nudge up against his limit. No problem. He was going to put this energy to good use.

He made it to the area Karen indicated in record time. It was torture to make himself sit on top of a building and survey the area for any signs of trouble before leaping into action. He drummed his fingers against the brick in anticipation. Everyone passing below him seemed to be going about their own business innocently enough. Then, after perhaps five minutes, a familiar chill tickled the back of Peter’s skull with what he had come to call his “spider sense.” His eyes narrowed in on a tall, shady looking man in a hoodie that was following far too close behind a woman as she looked down at her phone.

“Bingo,” Peter smiled. He leapt to the next building over to follow them and then waited until he saw the guy move to grab her. The mugger’s hands only ghosted against her back before Spider-man fell into him feet first, knocking the man flat on his stomach. The woman whipped around with wide eyes.

“Hey man!” Peter said cheerily as he webbed one of the guy’s hands to the concrete. “That’s not very nice, you know? Didn’t you go to preschool? Not taking the other kids’ toys is pretty much lesson number one.”

The man growled, wriggling his other hand free. He tried to slash awkwardly at Peter with a knife he had apparently been holding, but Peter easily caught his wrist before he could come close. Peter sighed as he twisted the man’s hand until the knife clattered uselessly to the pavement. “Man, why don’t the bad guys ever laugh at my jokes? I’m hilarious.” Standing, he webbed the man’s other hand to the ground and then threw a larger one over his back for good measure.

“Thank you!” the woman told him breathlessly. A few other people nearby had stopped and were taking pictures. That was Peter’s cue to leave. “No problem!” he replied. “Go ahead and call the cops. He’s not going anywhere for a couple hours.” As he went to shoot a web to the nearest building, he noticed his hands were shaking. _Weird_ , he thought. He wasn’t nervous. He could still feel his heart going crazy as he launched himself into the air though.

It wasn’t until a few good swings later that he realized his arms were trembling too. And for some strange reason, he was breaking into a sweat despite the chilly New York air rushing past him. He didn’t think the heater in his suit was on that high…

“Peter, your heart rate is approaching 175 beats per minute,” Karen informed him. “I suggest you take a moment to calm down.”

“I am calm Karen, totally calm!” he assured her quickly. He didn’t feel anxious, despite what his body was telling him. And with his current energy level, sitting still was not an option. He went on to stop a car break-in and a pick-pocketing before Karen spoke again.

“Your heart rate has now reached 220 beats per minute,” she warned, sounding wary.

“I’m fine. Completely. One hundred percent,” he replied. He was trying to dash across the length of a roof to jump for the next one, but his legs were acting funny. He couldn’t really feel his toes and his muscles kind of felt like they were vibrating. Before he realized what was happening, his feet betrayed him and he landed face first on the hard concrete.

“Ow,” he muttered. His head felt weird. Kind of floaty. It was hard to focus on anything. And his chest felt like it housed a lame butterfly.

“Peter,” Karen interjected more sternly. “Your heart has begun palpitating. Initiating the Boo-Boo Protocol. Calling Tony Stark.”

“The _what_? No, no, no Karen don’t bother Mr. Stark!” Peter pulled himself onto shaky hands and knees.

“Mr. Parker,” a familiar voice filled his ears, sounding completely unamused. “Please tell me your heart’s going crazy because you’re asking some girl to prom.”

Peter felt his stomach drop. “Oh, h-hey Mr. Stark! Nothing wrong here. Just a regular patrol. Was just going too fast. Yeah.” He sounded unconvincing even to himself. A bad taste formed in his mouth that coupled with his rapidly growing nausea.

Mr. Stark sighed over the line. “Kid, if your heart regularly pounded like a freight train and skipped beats while you were in the suit, I’d know about it. What happened? You hurt?”

“Nope. No. Definitely not hurt.” The light-headedness and queasiness swelled suddenly and Peter flopped onto his back with a groan.

“Uh-huh,” Mr. Stark deadpanned. “FRIDAY, give me a scan from Peter’s suit.”

“Karen reports no sign of injury, Boss,” a mechanical voice replied.

Peter stared up at the clouds as his head spun. He held up one hand in front of his face, trying to focus on it. Why did everything feel so fuzzy? Mr. Stark may have kept talking, but it sounded far away. His thoughts just wanted to drift away with the clouds…

“Hey Mr. Stark, you ever wonder what it would be like if spiders had fingers?” He was met with dead silence. After a moment he continued, words drifting out of his mouth completely disconnected from any kind of filter he probably should have had. “I mean like, what if the spider that bit me also gained some human DNA? Like, we swapped? And somewhere there’s a little spider running around with tiny human hands at the end of its feet?”

“Kid…” Mr. Stark said slowly. “Are you _drunk_?!”

Peter laughed aloud and then groaned when it jostled his stomach. “Nooo,” he drawled. “Are you kidding? May would kill me if I even took a sip of alcohol.”

His tone was even less amused than before. “FRIDAY, have Karen activate Baby’s First Shot Protocol.”

Peter’s hand flinched as he felt a prick on his pointer finger. “Ow! Hey!” he stared incredulously at the glove of the traitorous suit that had just drawn his blood.

“Blood alcohol content is zero,” FRIDAY reported a few seconds later.

“What about drugs? Any foreign content?”

“No foreign contaminate detected. However, the bloodstream is showing dangerously high levels of caffeine.”

“...Caffeine.”

Peter could actually feel his heart skipping beats now. He rubbed at his chest, his breath hitching. “It’s nothing,” he said quickly. “Just a little experiment, no big deal.”

“Define experiment,” Mr. Stark commanded. There was an edge to his voice. He was clearly angry, but he sounded somehow different than he had after the fateful ferry incident. Less enraged and more...concerned. Of course, Peter could be reading it wrong. He was fighting a losing battle with coherency now.

“Just testing my metabolism,” he tried to say lightly.

“By doing what?”

“Drinking...some soda? And maybe some energy drinks.”

“How much are we talking here, Spiderling?”

Peter had to think far too hard about his answer. His chest was burning. And bile began rising in his throat. “I think...eight bottles of soda...during school.”

“That’s...not great, but for you it shouldn’t be--”

“And then some Red Bull this afternoon.”

“How many, Parker,” he asked again.

Peter felt like gagging. “A dozen 12 ounce bottles in an hour,” he spit out quickly.

He heard Mr. Stark let loose a few choice words that Peter would never be allowed to say. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

Peter couldn’t say anything else. He ripped his mask off just in time to lean to the side and vomit. He heaved for what felt like hours before his stomach was finally empty. Then he fell back down, gasping. Air was too hard to take in. The pain in his chest was raging as it slowly spread to his left arm. “Mr. Stark…” he croaked out. Only then did he realize that the call probably ended when he took off the mask. He tried to retrieve it, but his hands shook terribly.

He still had his phone though. A fact he remembered a moment after it began buzzing and ringing underneath him. Peter winced as he reached toward the pocket on the back of his suit. He wasn’t fast enough to get to it before the call dropped. Luckily, it started ringing again almost immediately. Somehow, he managed to grasp it and accept the call before his hand fell limply back on the pavement.

“Kid?” Mr. Stark’s voice came through the speaker. “You there? Talk to me.”

“Hurts,” Peter gasped.

“Okay. It’s going to be okay. I’m on my way. Just hang on, all right?”

Peter wondered how he was going to get there. If he was at the Avengers Compound, the drive to the city would take a couple hours at least. Then he heard a mechanical whirring in the background and realized that Mr. Stark must be flying in one of his suits. Peter would feel honored that he would go to so much trouble for him if he wasn’t in so much freaking pain.

“Pete? Keep talking. Tell me what hurts.”

“Chest,” Peter replied through clenched teeth.

“Christ,” Mr. Stark swore, sounding like he was trying to hold panic at bay. “All right. No biggie. You’re going to be fine. I’ll be there in ten.”

Whatever he may have said next got lost as Peter’s chest felt like it was being ripped open by knives. He thought he was screaming; it could have just been the rush of blood in his ears. “Tony!” he cried, desperately reaching for the phone as if it would produce the man himself.

He was aware of only pain and Mr. Stark’s distant shouting until everything went black.

* * *

_“Damn it kid, you are NOT doing this to me!”_

_“Activating the Spider Suit defibrillators.”_

_“C’mon… Breathe! Breathe for me. There you go, Pete.”_

_“Heartbeat detected. Immediate medical attention is advised.”_

_“Yeah I gathered that much, FRIDAY. Give me a boost. Let’s get him out of here. ...And call May Parker, would you?”_

_“Calling May Parker.”_

* * *

 

Peter wasn’t sure whether not the feeling of wind rushing past his face and being supported by metal arms was a dream or not by the time he woke. But it quickly became the least of his worries. Almost as soon as his eyes opened, he was assaulted with pain radiating throughout his core. He whimpered and shut his eyes again, turning his face into his pillow.

“Peter? You with us, honey?”

He dared open his eyes in slits enough to make out the image of Aunt May leaning over him. The sight of her sent a relaxing sensation throughout his limbs. Thank God she was here. She always knew how to make him feel better. He must have gotten really sick this time to feel so bad--

Suddenly everything came back to him in a rush. Peter shot up into a sitting position. And instantly regretted it. Everything hurt. He hissed involuntarily.

“Whoa, take it easy there Spider-man!” May chastised as she pushed him back down. “You’re still healing.”

Peter blinked around the dimly lit room. He was not at home. The bed was far too comfortable, for one thing. The walls were off-white and everything smelled sterile. A single window let in the soft light of early morning. An IV was placed in his arm and a heart monitor connected to his chest. The screen showed his steady heartbeats, but the sound had been muted. “Where are we?” he asked. This private room looked far less crowded than any hospital May could afford to take him to.

“You’re in the med bay at the Compound,” a different voice answered.

Peter’s eyes widened as Tony Stark stood up from a chair in the corner, setting his tablet aside.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter squeaked in a far too tiny voice. He hated the idea of his role model seeing him laying around helpless and injured.

Mr. Stark nodded. “Underoos. How you feeling?”

“Um,” Peter took in a deep breath, trying to assess himself. “Still kind of hurts.”

“Not surprising. Most patients who went into cardiac arrest wouldn’t even be awake yet. Your doctor was very impressed with your advanced healing.”

Peter looked up quickly. Mr. Stark held up one hand. “He doesn’t know who you are. The Avengers have more than one doctor on retainer who are trained to work on enhanced individuals. And my lawyers made sure a long time ago that they legally can’t talk about what they see here.”

Peter sighed in relief, sinking further down into the plush bed.

“Good job on ‘operation: test my metabolism by trying to kill myself’ by the way,” Mr. Stark added casually.

Peter flinched. “I didn’t think I would hurt myself.”

“You didn’t think at all, Peter.” He didn’t even have to look up to recognize May’s no nonsense face. “At any point in time did it cross your mind that what you were doing was dangerous? When Tony called me and told me what happened, it almost gave _me_ a heart attack!”

Peter wished he could just disappear inside the blankets for a few days. “I’m sorry Aunt May,” he mumbled. God, he hated making her worry.

May took off her glasses and rubbed her tired face. Peter wondered if she had slept at all last night. “Look Peter, I know being a teenager isn’t easy, but raising one is no cake walk either. And that’s just for a normal kid. But a superhero teen? It’s...a lot. It’s all new to me. You can’t just go doing experiments on yourself like that. At least not by yourself.”

“I know,” answered quickly. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“You’re darn right it won’t. Needless to say, you’re grounded from all forms of caffeine for the foreseeable future. And no Spider-man for two weeks. _Two weeks_ you hear me?”

He opened his mouth to protest, but when he saw the look on her face, and remembered that he had almost died just from doing something stupid, he figured that was fair. So instead he just nodded.

“Oh, and don’t bother trying to sneak out in the middle of the night. Tony connected me to Karen and the Baby Monitor Protocol.” She smiled, brandishing her phone and showing him the new app icon shaped like his mask.

This time Peter did sit up. “He _what_.”

“I think you’ve made it clear that you’re not ready to be an unsupervised superhero yet, kid,” Tony said with somewhat smug smile. “So your aunt and I came to an agreement. Karen will send her any serious alerts to your health. Same ones that get sent to me. She also has access to the Baby Monitor feed whenever she needs.”

May opened the app and started to play a video. “And I agree, the bad guys should laugh at your jokes. You are hilarious.”

Peter fell back down and covered his red face with both hands. “Oh my God. Just kill me now.”

“Nope, not an option. You’ve done enough almost-dying to last us a while,” Tony replied with a thin lipped smile.

May lowered her phone and resumed her serious gaze. “Listen. ...I know I can’t take Spider-man away from you permanently, as much as I’d like to. Tony explained what happened the last time he tried. It’s part of who you are now. You can’t go back to being a normal kid. That’s not easy for me to accept, but… I’m getting there. I feel better knowing about all the safety protocols built into your suit. If it hadn’t automatically called Tony, you wouldn’t be here now.” She paused for a moment, looking down as though gathering her strength. “But he’s right. You’re not ready to do this on your own.”

Peter could tell where this was going and sat back up quickly. “No, no, no please don’t take the suit away. I’ll be better, I promise!” His eyes darted between his aunt and Mr. Stark as he rambled. “I’ll never do anything like that ever again. I can keep a list of everything that I eat or drink. I’ll never be late for curfew. I’ll get all my homework done, I swear. I’ll never miss another decathlon practice. Just please--!”

“Wow,” Mr. Stark commented calmly. “Does he have an off button?”

“Not really,” May laughed.

“No one’s taking your suit, Spider-kid.” Mr. Stark crossed his arms as he regarded him. “We’ve come up with a better solution.”

“If you’re going to do the superhero thing, you should at least go about it the right way,” May sighed, resigned. “I’m glad you decided not to join the Avengers. You’re only fifteen for Heaven’s sake. But you could still use some training.”

“Which is why you’ll be joining me here at the compound every other weekend to test and hone your abilities in a controlled environment.”

Peter blinked. He had been preparing himself for an epic punishment. But this felt rather like a reward. “I...really?”

“Yeah kid.” Mr. Stark smiled minutely, and this time it looked genuine. “Besides, if you’re going to keep damaging that expensive suit, you should learn how to fix it yourself. Stop making me clean up after you, and all that.”

Peter’s mouth fell open at the thought of getting to work alongside Tony Stark in his lab at the Avengers Compound. Oh man, Ned was going to lose it when he found out. “Yeah. Yeah! That would be incredible! Thank you. Thank you so much Mr. Stark! When can we start?”

May gently pushed on his shoulder to try and get him to lay down. “We’ll talk about that once you’re not on bed rest anymore. Which will be at least until tomorrow. So settle in. Are you hungry?”

Peter didn’t lay all the way down, but he did prop his head up against the back of the bed. His stomach and chest still ached terribly. “Not really,” he answered honestly. “But could I have some water please?”

“Sure, honey. I’ll go get you some. And I’ll grab some jello too, just in case you feel like eating it later.” She kissed his forehead. “Be right back.”

After she left the room, Peter looked over to Mr. Stark. “This was your doing, wasn’t it.” He couldn’t imagine his aunt coming up with the idea of letting Iron Man take a more active role in mentoring him. He frankly couldn’t believe she had even agreed.

Mr. Stark looked very pleased with himself as he plopped down into a chair beside Peter’s bed. “Maybe.”

“How’d you do it? I honestly thought she hated you.”

Mr. Stark clutched his heart in mock offense. “I think you’re forgetting that I’m a very charming person. Especially to attractive aunts.” P

eter rolled his eyes but wasn’t buying it. “But when did you guys, like, become friends?”

Surprisingly, the older man went quiet for a moment. “I don’t know. I guess waiting up all night to see if your kid is going to die is a kind of bonding experience.”

Peter’s jaw clicked shut at that. For the first time since waking up, he noticed the dark circles under Mr. Stark’s eyes. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, his hair was unkempt, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in a couple days. Had he really sat up all night worrying about some superpowered kid from Queens? This man was not the impenetrable Iron Man that Peter had grown up idolizing. This was a real person, capable of fear, capable of caring. This man was far better than Peter’s mental version.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, suddenly too guilty to look his mentor in the eyes.

Mr. Stark swiftly adopted an air of nonchalance. “Welp. You’re on bed rest. That means to webslinging, no homework, no nothing.” He propped his feet up on Peter’s bed and leaned back in his chair. “FRIDAY, put on the nerdiest show you can find.”

“Hey!” Peter squawked indignantly. “I like all kinds of shows!”

The TV on the opposite wall from his bed came to life and started playing _The Big Bang Theory_. “Oh, this is a good one!” Peter couldn’t help but say.

Mr. Stark snorted. “Sure kid. Your taste is _obviously_ diverse.”

Peter thought he would leave after confirming that the patient was going to stay put, but instead he stayed where he was and watched the show with him. He made comments whenever the characters began talking about physics and how right or wrong he thought they were. He even pointed out that Sheldon’s whiteboard had an error in the equation written on it that he had been able to spot in seconds. Peter laughed and didn’t doubt it.

He also noticed Mr. Stark glance frequently away from the tv to check on Peter’s heart monitor. As though to make sure it was still beating.

“Just so you know,” Peter said between episodes. “I think I’m done with energy drinks. Forever.”

“Yeah, good call Underoos.”

He yawned, settling further down into the plush bed. “Might try coffee though.”

Mr. Stark shot him a warning look that melted when he saw Peter’s teasing smile. Then it was his turn to roll his eyes. “Kid I swear to God.”

Just before he drifted off to sleep a half hour later, he thought he felt a warm hand, too big to be May’s, squeeze his shoulder gently. Stupid experiments and cardiac arrest aside, Peter had to be the luckiest kid in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I decided it was finally time for me to contribute something to this fandom I've been involved with for months. Just a short story. Not planning any sequels unless someone has a really great prompt to offer. I've read a lot of fics that include a scene of Peter testing his alcohol limit and ending up drunk, but I find that to be out of character for a good kid like Peter who is well aware of the drinking age. Instead, I thought it might be novel to have him test himself against something legal and harmless in small doses, put dangerous in large quantities. Hence this fic. I'm an experienced writer, but I've never tried my hand with the MCU before. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!


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